The Coming Darkness
by The Grimm Huntsman
Summary: Even the most brilliant of lights flicker and die as the creatures of Grimm regain the grip taken from them by humanity. As students begin their first year at Beacon, threats thought to be long forgotten are found to be terrifyingly real. But with all its talent and resources, will Beacon Academy, one of the last shining examples of hope be able to fend off the coming darkness?


The Grimm Beginning

A sleek Bullhead airship cut through the clouds, the dull roar of the engines being the only indication of its presence to any outside observer.

The relatively diminutive ship seemed to have reached its destination as it slowed and gently touched down in what seemed to be a ruined castle. Cracked masonry, smashed statues, and large chunks of stone were strewn about the large courtyard; the only sign of life in this dead place was a warm glow coming from the nearby windows, dulled only by the dirty panes. The Bullhead's passengers were quick to disembark, and even quicker to enter the warmly lit interior, as the fall cold seemed to have intensified in the area.

Inside of the intricate housing of stone and metal there was an atmosphere of peace, silence, stillness that permeated through every side and facet of the hall.

"You moron!"

Some things didn't last forever.

The steady click-click of crystal heels on stone echoed through the seemingly empty halls of the long forgotten castle.

"The robbery was going flawlessly!"

"And no thanks to you we were almost beaten by a little girl and** her.**" The woman in the heels snarled, pausing to bunch some of the red fabric of her dress in her hands before letting go and stalking off again, shaking with rage the entire way.

"She was not just a little girl; she had a giant gun-scythe. And as for the other one, we weren't prepared for a Huntress, let alone Goodwitch herself!" The man said as casually as he could manage, smoothing out the wrinkles in his immaculately white jacket and pushing his askew black red-banded bowler back into place.

"Besides, you can't pin this all on me. After all, even the old Witch gave even you a run for your lien." He went on, prodding the woman with his cane.

The two continued their argument as they walked down the hallway, pausing only to find their bearings in the unfamiliar area.

Making a quick judgment, Cinder angrily shoved Roman through the set of heavy wooden doors behind him, relishing in the chaotic crashes and muffled curses that came after.

"Don't forget who saved you from the "scary" little girl Torchprick." She seethed, strolling after him through the doors, ignoring the scandalized expression and the glare that followed.

"Ruby Rose."

"What?" She turned to see a well-dressed man in a black vest and red tie resting comfortably on one of the nearby chairs.

"That's her name."

"Rose." Cinder repeated calmly, her anger having been soothed as she began to think.

"Why does that name seem familiar?"

"Dunno, here's her file." Junior continued uncaringly, tossing a scroll to Roman who dropped the dust container, much to his leader's chagrin and another to the woman herself. Job done, he settled back down, resting his feet on nearby desk and folding his hands behind his head.

There was an air of heavy silence in the room that was brought to an abrupt halt with a new discovery.

"I told you she wasn't an ordinary girl!" Roman crowed triumphantly, flicking through the compiled videos and documents in the report.

Cinder ignored him; instead her focus was with the video of Ruby's most recent fights, ranging from Signal to their confrontation earlier.

One thing from the videos stuck out the most, her speed was incredible! But, in some ways, familiar… The barest traces of memories filtered through her mind, voices, screams, pain, blood, and other images, but were all too quickly brushed aside with a head shake.

"I have to admit, it seems like you had too much time on your hands." She said, looking at Junior with an expression of amusement.

The man in question scoffed, waving off the barest hint of praise. "Not even a little."

"You mean you didn't make this?"

"What do you think?"

"I didn't have the time to steal all of this data and wrap it up in a neat little bow for you. I have a club that needs to be run. Unless you think that you can run it yourself." Unspoken challenge emanated from his chastising gaze. Cinder held his cool stare with a hot one, refusing to acknowledge the truth to his words, as doing so would be like accepting defeat, and if one thing was certain, Cinder would die before ever indulging those she saw as underlings with any kind victory.

The fiery glare went unnoticed when Junior stood up and walked across the room to another door, giving the individually detailed Grimm in the engravings a once over before knocking hard on the thick wood.

The lock clicked and the door eked inward, affording Junior just enough space to stick his head in.

"It's time to go girls."

Muffled voices went back and forth and the door was flung open, letting two girls, twins, both dressed in contrasting colored clothing into the room.

The first major thing that caught their attention was Cinder, for they had never seen their boss more than a handful of times, even then, it was only on rare occasions that she ever appeared to them and she always had a reason each time.

Feeling the stares, the woman in question looked up from the scroll to the new arrivals that seemed to have caught their normally less than good natured leader in a rare look of genuine surprise.

The girl in red was the first to break the lock of eyes, instead finding her boots more interesting; her sister however held strong and continued to contest her until they both broke eye contact simultaneously.

Junior and Roman watched the silent exchange with mild amusement; after all, it was rare that Cinder ever backed down from a challenge let alone from someone she commanded.

"_What were their names again?" _Feeling slightly foolish for not knowing, the fiery woman decided to not even try to ask and instead switched focus to a more important matter.

"Do we know what happened to the girl afterwards?"

"It's in there too, I think." Junior said in passing, tapping a specific video thumbnail, before motioning for twins and brushing past Roman to leave. Melanie and Miltia each gave a tired sigh, rolled their eyes in eerie synchronicity, and followed their "boss". On the way out they gave Roman little space as they split past him on either side and vanished into the dimly lit hall.

Roman watched them leave, growling spitefully with each step they took. To alleviate his anger, the gentleman criminal pulled out one of his Lightsbane cigars and angrily snipped the end off a cutter in the shape of a wickedly grinning face. He violently snapped open his gold RT monogramed lighter and held the flame to the tip of the cigar in his lips.

An almost sickly sweet smelling aroma began to fill the room as Roman took a deep breath and let twin trails of smoke pass from the corners of his mouth, affording himself a small smile and contented sigh as he enjoyed his favorite luxury.

Cinder snapped her gaze from the amusing spectacle and back to the video, just in time to make out familiar silver and lemon locks in an expensive looking and dimly lit car before the door closed.

Slowly the vehicle pulled away from the curb and off in the direction of Beacon, leaving a noxious cloud of exhaust in its wake.

Letting out an annoyed hiss, like a dying fire, the scroll was slammed down on a nearby desk.

"Didn't find anything on Red did you?"

"No, but that's not going to stop you from enlightening me with your extensive knowledge on this girl."

That seemed to shut him up pretty quickly.

"Please, tell me, I'm dying to know what important information is rattling around in that charbroiled head of yours." Cinder continued menacingly, stalking up to him and jabbing a burning finger to his temple.

"Red? I don't know much about her, what I do know is what I've gotten from informants we have in Signal, they've talked about a young scythe-wielder being trained by a master."

"Qrow."

The woman snarled, her arms flaring up an angry red, flames licking and lapping as they rose up on both of her arms, hungrily trying to devour the objects and people just out of reach.

That was a name she recognized.

"So, we have Qrow's niece, a scythe-wielder in training, another, more accomplished Huntress, and Qrow himself. It seems like Ozpin's hard at work again."

"But this time he may have the upper hand." She growled again, dropping back onto the desk and picking up the scroll.

"I'm not so sure." Roman said approaching her with same caution as one would take around an angered Ursa.

"Junior never told us who made these." Cinder stated seemingly out of the blue, effectively derailing the dapper criminal's line of thinking, as she held the tablet up and inspected it, looking for any sign leading to its source.

Roman seemed prepared for her, at least that may have been the reason why he let a chuckle disperse the smoke cloud surrounding himself.

"Who do you think has the time, the resources, and cares about this sort of thing enough?"

She gave a cursory glance at the open door, a wicked grin stretching across her face.

"Let's see what else our "great source" has to say, shall we?" Cinder asked, walking to the room, and stopping in the doorway before turning to Torchwick expectantly.

Grumbling, he followed her inside, shutting the door behind them.

Silence took its hold on the castle, and one by one the lights began to flicker and die out, darkness ruled once more.

Notice any typos or errors in the writing? Do the characters seem in character? Leave a review if you find any problems, or if you liked what you've read so far, or not, I don't care, I'll keep writing this regardless.

A bit of a side note, don't expect more of this story for a little while, I'll try and get more in during the coming weeks, and hopefully an update schedule if things go right. You can check my author page for more on this and a few other things regarding this story as they come.

The Grimm Huntsman


End file.
